So– what don’t I do?
I don’t do baseboards. Kinda regretting the choice of white trim nowadays.
I don’t put the clothes into the drawers. They sit on the dressers for ages, which means they’ll probably tumble to the floor. And then I’ll think they’re dirty. So they get washed again. And don’t even get me started on those winter clothes that need to be packed up. (Maybe if I did that, there would be room in the drawers! Yup!)
I don’t file my paperwork. Why do that, when I have a perfectly good laundry basket to hold it all?
I don’t match socks, until people are crying.
I don’t defrost my freezers, clean the oven, or RSVP to bithday parties. I should do all of those things, I know. I’m sorry. It’s awful. I could at least try, but… yeah, I’m not going to. (Because I don’t make false promises. That’s a good don’t, right?)
I don’t sew buttons back on. Because where in the world is my needle/thread? I have no idea! Just look on your dresser for another shirt! (Or the floor, in case it is in the Tumbled to the Floor Phase.)
Those are just a FEW of the things I don’t do.
Someone wondered that the other day, what doesn’t she do so that she can do all the other stuff?
That’s not easy for me, actually. I don’t like leaving things unfinished. I can’t stand walking away from the breakfast dishes so we can start school on time. I don’t like ignoring the puzzle pieces all spilled out in the bottom of the closet. But ya know? Despite my online moniker, I am NOT WonderGirl. I cannot do it all. If it EVER looks that way to you, let me disabuse you of that notion right now. WonderGirl is an oxymoron. It was supposed to be ironic, kinda funny. It was not meant to be a declaration of my competent handle on the world, I promise. Maybe I should change it to something more accurate. BarelyTogetherGirl or DustBunnyGirl or OhGoodGriefTheDogToreUpAnotherPieceofStyroFoamAllOverTheYardGirl.
If you come to my house and it’s squeaky clean, you can put money on it– I was cleaning like a crazy she-creature because I knew you were coming. If my sock basket is (nearly) empty, it’s because I needed to justify a Battlestar Galactica marathon. If my baseboards are sparkling, that’s because somebody spilled a glass of water on it. Just being honest here.
I don’t do it all. Who can? I just do what’s essential, and try to get to the rest eventually. (And I cross my fingers that you won’t need to open a closet door when you’re here. For your own safety.)
Not WonderGirl. Not WonderMom or WonderSister or WonderFriend.
Just me. Giving the best I got.
So that’s it. That’s the secret: There IS no secret. Not for any of us. We’re all just getting along the best we can, and God is merciful and good.